


The Darkest Hour

by bloodsigilsandpie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt No Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, M/M, POV Dean Winchester, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27470224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodsigilsandpie/pseuds/bloodsigilsandpie
Summary: He blasted music from the first tape his hands found, in a desperate attempt to drown any coherent thoughts, and drove. To the place where they met all those years ago.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 7





	The Darkest Hour

Nobody slept that night.

Jack just sat at the table. He looked numb. So did Sam. Their shoulders slumped, eyes staring at nothing.

Sammy hadn’t said a word. First Eileen— Dean knew how much he loved her. And then he had to tell him about Castiel, one of his best friends, after watching the rest of them die before his eyes.

But he didn’t tell what his last words were. He didn’t know it himself. They were still ringing in his ears. Dean had tried to process it, but he couldn’t bring himself to believe it.

Maybe he had imagined it. Like he had many times, before giving up on the possibility. It all felt like a fever dream.

Cas said it. He said it and then he was gone.

Leaving him on the floor. Alone. Where Sam and Jack found him.

If he stayed in the bunker any longer he might burst, spilling ~~something~~ everything he’s been hiding.

So he decided he would be the first to get up, or even move. Neither of them even lifted their heads to look at him.

He blasted music from the first tape his hands found, in a desperate attempt to drown any coherent thoughts, and drove.

When he reached where he wanted to be the sun was almost up. The sky looked too beautiful for the occasion.

Dean heaved the doors open and stepped into the old barn. It was as dusty and worn down as he’d expected. The sigils under the heavy layer of dust and dirt brought back memories.

He remembered when the angel was the most powerful thing he had seen. And he had stabbed him. He let out a small laugh at the memory and walked to the walls.

Running his hand over a sigil he asked, “Why, Cas? Why did you do any of that for me? What have I ever done for you?”

It was supposed to be a prayer. And the thought of Castiel not being able to hear him brought him to his knees. His voice was shaky when he spoke again.

“I love you too, you know? Of course I love you. I’m so sorry I didn’t say it. I just wish you’d given me time to tell you before—”

He was sitting on the floor, head in hands, failing to hold back his tears, again. The words wouldn’t come out of his mouth. Was he really gone?

Tears filled his bloodshot eyes till they spilled down his cheeks. He was too tired to hold them back.

“You were wrong,” he said between sobs, “when you said you could never have it.”

He paused. Accepting Cas wasn’t going to appear in a flutter of wings, he kept going, voice breaking.

“You could have had it, Cas, _we_ could have had it. All of it.”

He reached into his coat pocket and took out the mixtape he had made for him. It was blurry through the tears.

He hummed a broken tune from Ten Years Gone as he brought it up to his lips, remembering what Cas once said to him years ago— _I wish circumstances were different._


End file.
